This morning when I stepped out to see just how cold it was last night (and thank you to the full moon last weekend) I heard the first geese of the season (at least up here) overhead. From a distance it always sounds at first like dogs barking, maybe terriers. Then you realize if it's dogs it's flying, and the brain kicks in and you think, oh, yeah. always have to look up when they go by, a kind of wistful, silent homage to that journey and the inner need that tells them when to go.
We were late getting the fields mowed and it was a bonus to the Monarchs; all last week we watched as two and three or sometimes as many as a dozen would feed on the goldenrod before they left. I always keep a nice sized stand of it by the garden, since it seems this is one of the few things out there blooming in any quantity this time of year, and they head right for it. They feed, always moving steadily down the fields, and then follow the driveway and away.
We missed the frost this time (fingers crossed), but I will go out later and pull off all the ripe tomatoes, they should be just about due now. Serves me right for planting so late, I guess.